Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
•.•.•.•.•
New York City, New York - 1956
"GRACE! Grace, you'll never believe this," a girl said, approaching the young and eye-catching girl.
The pair had been friends for a few weeks, since Grace moved to New York. And their nights mainly consisted of bars and clubs.
Grace turned, giving a small smile.
"What is it this time, Lucy?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Lucy grinned, grabbing Grace's arm.
"D'you see that gent' over there? Oh, he just looked over here!"
Grace gave the slightest glance over, then turned back to her friend with a nod.
"Yes, why?" Then, with quick realization, she said, "Oh, no. You know I'm not looking for any of that right now-" "Grace..." she pleaded, with her big, bright blue eyes.
"Grace, he specifically said that he wanted to talk to you. Something about your 'magical' presence and beauty. Weird compliment, but I've heard stranger, y'know? Grace, you gotta go over there. He's the hottest guy you'll see all night!"
Grace's amused smile dropped. She snapped her head over to where the man had been. He still looked on at her, raising his glass with a tilt of his head.
"A-Alright. Fine. But- but you just stay here, okay? Don't try to eavesdrop."
Lucy gave a small squeal, squeezing her friend's arm in excitement. Grace had noticed before how it kind of hurt her, even being a vampire.
Swiftly, Grace pushed past people to get to this stranger, who obviously knew she was a witch. No one complimented women these days by calling them 'magical'.
The man, who's face she could see clearly now, had the most unsettling presence. He was dangerous, and Grace knew it.
She crossed her arms, clenching her jaw to show her confidence.
"Good evening, love. I was wondering when you'd find your way over here. If it wasn't for your friend, I doubt you would've noticed me."
Grace frowned, finding the British accent a bit strange for someone in New York City.
She remained silent, staring him down.
The man stood, holding out a hand. "I'll go first. Niklaus Mikaelson. I prefer Nik. And you are...?"
Apprehensively, Grace stuck out her hand. However, upon contact, her body froze up and she sensed a vision coming.
Grace tore her hand away, seemingly horrified.
Nik frowned. "What's the matter, love? You look as if you've seen a ghost."
Every fiber of Grace told her to run. That she needed to run and never look back. This man, whatever he was... it was bad news.
